Herculean task

In Competition No. 2400 you were invited to write a sonnet picturing one of Hercules’ labours.

I used the word ‘picturing’ with a purpose: I wanted you to be visual. I was thinking of the sonnets in Les Trophées (two describe vividly the Nemean and Stymphalian missions), written by José-Maria de Heredia, that gifted, Cuban-born (father Spanish Creole, mother Norman) Parnassian French poet whose cameo-like glimpses of the Classical world enchanted me early. Out of the 12 labours, easily the most popular (are you filthy-minded?) was the cleansing of the Augean stables, which would have defeated seven maids with seven mops, sweeping for half a year. The winners, printed below, get £25 each, and Michael Swan scoops £30.

Cerberus stood there snarling, acting tough,
A real performance. When he tried to fight
I blew down all six ears to call his bluff,
Brought him to heel, and headed for the light.
You should have seen his faces, at the sight
Of sunshine, flowers and rabbits. He went mad,
Charged round all day, slept on my bed all night.
I had a friend: the first I’d ever had.
He could not settle, though, with us above.
He pined for darkness. And I was afraid,
For when the fit comes I kill those I love,
As the gods know. A twelfth time, then, I paid:
I took him to the trail that leads below,
Kissed his three muzzles, wept, and let him go.
Michael Swan

My final challenge was the mutant thing.
It had — I couldn’t count the heads it had.
Its tail concluded in a potent sting.
A dog, yet not a dog. The news was bad.
I’d heard about its ways, the liquid fear
It raised in visitors, this brute near-clone
Of monstrous parents. Still, my task was clear:
To quell it with my body strength alone.
For preparation, I immersed my soul
In the Eleusinian Mysteries, until
No force could shake my vision of my goal,
No beast of Hades break my steadfast will.
And